


The Simple Pleasures

by NocturnalDecay



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Facial Shaving, M/M, Oral Sex, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 23:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4119304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnalDecay/pseuds/NocturnalDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt; "Hawke gets a sensual beard trim that ends in a happy ending!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Simple Pleasures

Damien Hawke had always been a well kempt young man.  Despite the hardships that his family had faced, even during the blight he was able to keep his coarse, copper beard trimmed and nicely shaped...thanks to Bethany, that was.  

 

Poor, sweet Bethany.  She had been a kind woman, a sweet sister and a loving daughter.  Perhaps, had Damien chosen to leave her behind, rather than let her tag along on the Deep Roads expedition, she would've lived beyond her 19th year.  That was not the case however.  At the request of he, himself, the bright eyed, young mage had accompanied her elder brother to the Deep Roads.  It was there the taint had made a home in her heart and he had taken her life with his own hands.  Damien's sister was dead at no fault but his own, it was a sad reality that weighed heavy on his heart and was reflected on his face.  

 

*

 

Hawke stood before his looking glass and hardly recognized the man he saw before him.  Cloudy grey eyes were the only familiarity in his appearance.  The long, rust-red locks that had always been shaggy now hung well below his shoulders.  Additionally the nicely maintained mutton chops and the neatly trimmed patch at the curve of his chin had been completely lost to the the overgrowth.  What was now present wasn't even shaped or presented with the pride of a Dwarven beard.  No, the only thing he'd been able to manage (with the small pair of scissors Beth had left), was trimming the hairs directly above his mouth as to avoid chewing them along with his meals.  He sighed at the stranger in the reflection.  It seemed the time to consult his friends had come.

 

*

 

No one save Varric had seen Hawke since his return from the Deep Roads.  Which is why it came as a surprise to see him at their weekly game of Diamondback.  

 

"Would you look at what the cat dragged in.” The sultry voice cooed at his arrival.

 

“Ah Isabela, no ship yet I see.”  The pirate took a swig from the bottle in her hand and then circled the man.  

 

“Varric was right, that beard is awful.” She leaned seductively against the table and downed the rest of her drink.

 

“Awful is insufficient.” Scoffed the Tiventer elf.  “That thing is an abomination.”

 

“Well, Fenris isn’t wrong…” Aveline put her cards down on the table and gave Hawke the soft version of the ‘I hope you’re keeping out of trouble’ look.  He chuckled in response and glanced around the table.

 

“Where is Anders anyway?” Everyone at the table groaned.

 

“Blondie couldn’t make it Hawke.  Now how about you join us, my good friend?”  Varric was already waving down the barmaid to bring Hawke a tankard of ale but he man had yet to take a seat.

 

“Couldn’t make it?” The ginger questioned.  “What exactly does that entail?  He hasn’t been caught by the Templars, I trust you’d tell me if that were the case.”  Fenris grumbled from his end of the table and rose to get another drink.

 

“Ah, you know Blondie, Hawke… that nug humpping shit can’t turn away a patient.”  The dishevelled man shifted on his feet for a moment before letting out a sigh he hadn’t know he’d been holding.

 

“Did anyone offer to help him?  What if there is another outbreak of Cholera and he’s overwhelmed?  I better go check on him.”  Without so much as a response from the others Hawke had already made his way to the door.  

 

“Hey Hawke, maybe he can tame that beast on your face while you’re there!”  Isabela shouted as he burst out the door.

 

  *

 

When Hawke rounded the corner he found himself just in time to see Anders dousing the lanterns outside his clinic.  He sprinted up the rickety staircase and clapped the man on the shoulder.  Hawke noticed his body tense beneath his hand but did not see the electric blue of his mana manifest itself in his hands.

 

“Anders,” The warmth in the familiar voice snuffed the man’s magic as his body relaxed.

 

“Andraste’s knicker weasels, Hawke!  You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

 

“You weren’t at the Hanged Man, I figured I’d come see if you needed a hand.”

 

“You’re a bit late for that.”  There was a lightheartedness to his words.  The two had feelings for one another, anyone who took the time to look could see it as clearly as the dopey smiles on their faces.  As of yet nothing had transpired between the two other than some light flirting and some rather heavy ‘come hither’ looks… Though it was just the two of them there now, Anders thought as he turned to face his friend.  

 

With wide but tender eyes and the curl of lips he regarded the redhead.  “Hawke, while I’m all for a rugged man...” He paused, “you’re a mess.”  The slender rogue rand a hand roughly through his beard and gave a sheepish smile.

 

“I know.  I’m not sure how to deal with it in this state.  Beth always…” He looked away and ran his other hand through his rusty red hair.  

 

“Come inside, I’ll take care of it.” With that Hawke followed the mage into the shambles of his makeshift clinic.  

  


Anders told Hawke to sit on a chair near a small table as he rummaged around in the small sectioned off area that he used as a room for himself.  

 

“I sort of picked this stuff up all over the place.  You know a gift from a patient here and there and some things I found while I was with the Grey Wardens.”  He walked out with his arms full and laid everything out on the small table next to Hawke.  “It does the trick more or less.  Ah, one more thing.”  This time he returned with a small basin of water and a sheet tucked under one arm.  He sat the bowl with the other items and covered Hawke with the sheet.

 

“You know you could almost set up a shop with all this stuff…”  The mage didn't seem to hear him as he puttered with the items getting the soap lathered up in a small bowl and then sharpening the straight razor.

 

"You know, most of my more pleasant memories of the circle are of the time I'd spent with Karl."

 

"You mentioned that he was your first..." Anders was now trimming along the edge of his chin meticulously running the comb through and snipping ever so slightly.  A good several inches and handfuls of the coarse, rusty red was now on the floor and in the sheet that the healer had draped over him.  Already Hawke was feeling more like himself.

 

"Karl, he was a good man.  He taught me to shave you know.  I was so nervous. It's a good thing I became a healer… I cut myself so many times when Karl wasn’t there to steady my hand.  Once I got better he even let me trim his beard.”

 

“Hm, it is a shame that he is no longer with us.  For someone who taught you not to fall in love, it's clear you were smitten with the man.”  Conviction bled through the words as he spoke.  Anders stood hunched over the small table that he had laid out the make shift shaving kit for a moment before rolling his shoulders and straightening to his full height.  

 

“Hawke, you’re bloody mad if you think I’m in love with a ghost.  Can’t you see how much this means to me?  How much you mean to me?”  Hawke’s first instinct was to look away from the man before him, an instinct that he fought and instead met Ander’s amber eyes.  There he was standing in his black breeches and boots with a tunic rather on than his usual robes and feathered pauldrons.  The staff that seldom left his hands was propped in a corner clearly out of arm's reach.  It dawned on him then, Anders was comfortable around him, or at least trying to be.  The memories of Karl were fond ones that must’ve been scarce from his time in the circle.  

 

“My apologies Anders, I never realized how difficult this must be for you.  I’m no mage but Bethany and my father… I would never wish any harm upon you nor any other mage.  I, I shouldn’t question your feelings for Karl.  Perhaps one day you might feel so strongly about myself.”  He was blushing already damn it, so much for being the uninterested, fleeting rogue that he liked to play.  The thin lips of the healer lifted at one corner curling into a knowing smirk.

 

“Right then, lets get you finished up shall we?  The name Hawke is well known around Kirkwall now, its about time you looked like the man who belongs up in that mansion.”  The thick lather of soap felt nice along his neck, and around his mouth.  An actual shave was something that he had never had the luxury of receiving.  Hawke watched as the mage disappeared behind him and out of his line of sight.  “Do you trust me?” the rich, nearly sexual voice asked beside his ear.

 

“Intimately.”  The answer was a breath from his lips before he knew he’s spoken and Anders tilted his head back to expose the column of his throat.  His own pulse was slow and heavy in his ears as the razor made its precise strokes up to his chin.  Six strokes, Hawke counted, along his neck and another handful around his mouth.  He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until they fluttered open to be greeted by the golden haired man wiping the remaining soap from his face.  

 

“There’s the Hawke I know.”

 

“That was…”  Anders chuckled as he balled up the sheet and tossed it to a pile with other soiled items.

 

“It has a similar effect on me.  Here, for the chops.” He handed the ginger who was examining his bare skin a small vial of oil.  

 

“Anders, I don’t know what to say.”

 

“Don’t say anything.  I haven’t allowed myself to have feelings like this for, for a long time.  Just, tell me if you don’t want this.”  In a swift motion he had pulled the other man into an embrace.  Much to Anders’ surprise Hawke took lead, dipping his tongue into the mage’s mouth coaxing the other out against his own.  The two held each other in a hungry kiss, nipping and biting at one another’s swollen lips until Anders let out a breathy gasp.  

 

“What-?” Hake began, but his confusion was replaced by a pur of laughter when he felt a hand cup his erection.   

 

“If I’d known that all it took was a little kissing I’d never had made it three years.”  

 

“I wouldn’t say it was just the kissing…  you do have that sexy tortured look going for you.”  With a playful bite on Hawke’s lower lip Anders sunk to his knees.  The laces of Hawke’s breeches were no match for his fingers.  It may have been years since Justice allowed him the company of another but in the heat of the moment it seemed such a skill could not be lost.  

 

“Andraste’s tits Hawke, have you never heard of smalls?”  The man gave a husky chuckle as he watched his cock spring free from his breeches and bob before the mage’s face.  Anders offered a cheeky smirk in return as he rolled his eyes up to meet the sultry stare of his lover.  “Maker, I’ve missed this.”  The words reminiscent of a time before Justice.  Anders’ nose nudged his cock as he teasingly licked up its underside.

 

“I was beginning to wonder if Isabela’s stories about you were true you know.  The audacious mage with the electric fingers.  You’re a handsome man Anders, but at times I find it hard to think of you as anything other than worn.”  

 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to think of anything other than you hard.”  The man on his knees batted blonde lashes that veiled whiskey eyes.  His hand already wrapped around the base of the redhead’s girthy prick.  Lips and tongue curled around the head, mouth pumping in a shallow tease.  

 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing down there?  Perhaps it may be in my best interest to find someone of better skill…”  The hand that had been holding the mage’s jaw up in smug contemplation was taken by Anders and moved to grasp the back of his head.  Amber eyes rolled dismissively up at the younger man and proceeded to take him fully into his mouth.  Hawke stared down at Anders.  The sight of his mouth held tightly around his shaft, long nose buried in the puff of his pubic hair drew a low moan from his throat.  The mage pulled back, lips nearly leaving the member completely but kissing tenderly at the tip.  Without faltering, Anders alternated between shallowly fucking Hawke with his mouth and taking him to the hilt.  The hand on the back of his head began fisting in the blonde locks as Hawke slowly thrusted into him.  Finally, the mage though with a moan around the cock, Hawke was getting the idea.  

 

Within moments Hawke had both hands on Ander’s head and was fucking his mouth in rapid thrusts.  His roaring moans nearly drowned by the wet, gagging sounds of his member pounding it’s vessel and his balls slapping the mage’s chin.  Between the feeling of skull fucking the delicious healer and the resulting sounds it didn't take long for Damien Hawke to reach his peak.

 

“Anders,” It was a groan between his heavy panting. “Anders, I’m…” His words were lost in a deep moan as he spilled himself down his lover’s throat.  

 

Anders chuckled with a smirk as he licked his lips and wiped a trickle of semen from his chin.  The rusty haired rogue once again in the old chair, this time fumbling to tuck himself back into his breeches.  Their eyes met and Damien gave a breathy chuckle of his own as a blush crept upon his cheeks.  Anders arched a brow curiously.  

 

“I was just wondering if the others would still be playing diamondback… I could go for a sandwich.”  With a smirk and a roll of his eyes Anders leaned down to kiss his lover and then both men locked up the clinic and made their way to Lowtowne.

 

  *

 

Damien Hawke had lost his sister to the taint of the darkspawn, but he had also found a lover in the apostate healer.  While Anders could never replace Bethany, he did fill in for her as far as Hawke’s beard was concerned.  That in itself helped him heal from her death, if only a little and only in the sweet, steril silence of Ander’s empty clinic with a tender hand and a willing mouth.

 


End file.
